Questions and Answers
by Alex Kade
Summary: Ben wants to help take care of Hansel's little witch diabetes issue.


_**A/N:**__ First, I want to apologize for not updating my ongoing chapter stories. I'm not dead, though! That's good news, right? And I do continue to read all the reviews, and I do feel guilty every time someone asks if I'm going to finish a story. I will. Some day. It's not my intention to abandon any of them, but real life has kept me super busy lately. I'm sorry!_

_That being said, I actually wrote this one way back when the movie came out in theaters, then promptly forgot I'd written it until I was going through my files. I figured I'd toss it up here so you guys knew I was still around._

_The idea spawned from my own curious mind and a touch of boredom. And mischief. I was feeling naughty the day I wrote this one, lol._

* * *

"It was really close that time."

"I _know_, Ben," Hansel ground out between clenched teeth, tired of the young man's keen ability to always blurt out the obvious. "It wasn't the first time, won't be the last. Get used to it."

Ben was not to be dissuaded. He followed along at the heels of his hero like a tiny, yapping dog trying its best to direct a bull through a pen, Hansel wanting nothing more than to get through the rocky pass and back to his sister and Edward. Ben was under the impression that Hansel needed to not be trudging down a steep mountain so soon after nearly being dead.

"You need to be more careful," he decided. "That was too close. What would happen if you broke all your vials? Or you dropped the whole pouch into a river? Or you run out? When _do_ you run out? Where do you get that stuff? Don't you think these are things I should know in case of an emergency?"

Stopping in the middle of the path, Hansel turned his face up to the sky and rolled his eyes, silently praying for patience. He didn't receive it.

"I die, okay," he said point-blank. "I break all my vials, or drop them in a river, or run out, I die."

He started walking again, leaving a temporarily speechless Ben behind, and basking in the silence of the early afternoon for the brief few seconds that it lasted.

"How is it that you guys haven't worked this out better?" the kid asked, sounding genuinely mortified. "There's four of us now. We should each carry at least one backup dose. Edward can carry two. Four. Six! He's huge, he can probably carry more like twelve and still be comfortable."

"Ben, there will never be a time when I need twelve doses. That would kill me just as fast as not having any."

"Precautionary measures," Ben shot back. "In case all the others break. I've decided, and I won't take no for an answer. Tell me where to get more, and I'll make sure we're always fully stocked."

A little smile crossed Hansel's face for the first time since waking up at the bottom of the rockslide a couple miles back. Honestly, he wasn't so much irritated with Ben's worry as he was with himself for being careless. If he'd been paying more attention to his footing instead of his wrist timer, he wouldn't have stepped on the patch of loose stone and sent himself tumbling down the side of half the freaking mountain, getting himself half buried by sand in the process. By the time Ben had gotten down and dug him out to administer the shot, it had very nearly been too late. The kid was right, he _did_ need to be more careful. Gretel was telling him that all the time.

Still, it would make him feel better to psych the kid out a little.

"We make it," Hansel said merrily, turning his head over his shoulder a little to watch Ben's reaction. "From witch pancreas and troll sperm."

And, there it was, the color drain from the kid's face. Hansel looked forward again and continued to lead the way with a little more bounce in his step.

"I guess you're right, though," he admitted. "With Edward around we won't have a shortage of troll sperm any time soon. That's normally the hardest to get, but since he's on our side, I bet he can make enough for everyone to carry a couple dose. Tell you what, when we hit base camp, Gretel and I will gut the witches, you take Edward out in the woods and find him something to jerk off to, and I'll show you how to cook everything up. Deal?"

He was met with only the sound of Ben's footsteps slowly following behind.

"That's not funny," the kid finally spat out. "I'm being serious. I'm trying to keep you alive."

"I know, and it's a great idea," Hansel agreed. "I'm dead serious. Ask Gretel. Witch pancreas and troll sperm."

There was another long beat of silence before Ben replied. "Really?"

"I'd swear on my mother's grave if she had one."

This time Hansel was blessed with a whole ten minutes of only the sounds of nature buzzing around them. When Ben finally was able to find words again, he only had one question.

"Can I at least do the witch gutting part?"

Hansel's grin only grew wider with a touch of evil mischief in it. "Sure, kid, whatever you want."

_~The next day~_

"My hands are purple."

Hansel and Gretel shared a look and a laugh as Ben stared at his palms.

"You didn't tell me it would turn my hands purple."

Hansel shrugged. "You didn't ask."

Edward rumbled out a slight huff of amusement from where he was putting out the morning fire, prompting a long-suffering look from the group's youngest witch hunter.

"How long does it last?" he asked.

"About a week," Hansel informed him casually, and stood up to sling his rifle over his shoulder. He ruffled the kid's hair as he moved past him, taking the lead on the next leg of their journey.

Gretel followed right behind, and leaned slightly towards Ben as she walked by.

"Should've gone with Edward."

The troll smiled and picked up the cart, taking up the third position in the traveling party and leaving Ben standing stunned for a second.

"A week?!" he squeaked. "My hands'll be purple for a whole week?! Isn't there something I can use to wash it off? Or, or, a spell we can cast or something? Come on, guys, I can't have purple hands for a week. Help me! Guys!"

The now peaceful woods echoed with laughter as the heroes took their leave, ending one adventure and marking the start of a new one with purple hands, a jar still half full of troll sperm, and three extra vials of Hansel's life-saving injections spread between the team. If he was going to die on one of his hunts, it at least would no longer be due to a dead witch's curse.

_~Fin~_

* * *

**_A/N:_**_ Fun fact. Apparently insulin was, way back in the old days, made of animal pancreas and a protein that was found in fish sperm! I figured I'd play off that and run with the fact that Hansel has magical witch diabetes, so I needed something more ridiculous to make his special insulin out of. :)_


End file.
